Healing
by The Atomic Cafe
Summary: Set after my previous story, Complaint. Stella wants to know why Mac has been acting so strange.


**Healing**

**By Dimgwrthien**

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI:NY or affiliates._

Mac shut his eyes, rubbing his temples, trying to ignore the case folder in front of him. He already had too much to do, and now he knew that he'd spent the rest of the night working at half of his usual speed thanks to his headache.

Only his office was lit up. The rest of the entire building looked dark, the windows opaque. Even if there was sun at two in the morning, Mac doubted he would have noticed. For the past month that he stayed well past midnight, he started to realize how late the sun actually came up and how early it went down.

Going through his head, Mac thought up a checklist for his day. Get a bit of sleep, finish this case, go through the evidence for the double murder case, talk to the DA's office about looking through the possible-homicide-but-could-be-suicide case to make sure of the blood splatter, check on any new cases, examine those scenes, walk through those cases, and end the day with… Mac paused, trying to think as little as possible, but trying to see if he could fit everything in his day. No, no time for it.

Mac liked going by the church in the morning or day, sometimes just to sit in the pew and feel _something_ inside of him. And sometimes, he would work up the nerve to sit in the graveyard behind the church, staring at Claire's grave until he felt weak.

Looking at the clock on his computer screen, Mac decided that it was about time to leave. He stood up, grabbing for his jacket, ready to leave.

"Mac?"

Mac glanced up quickly to see Stella's tired face. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice as low as hers.

"You weren't at your apartment, so I thought you'd be here," Stella answered. "I still wanted to talk."

"I'm heading out right now," Mac told her in as even of a voice as he could. He started out of the door when Stella grabbed his arm.

"No!" She glared at him. "If you can stay up until two in the morning working, you can talk to me for five minutes."

Mac paused. It was true, he realized, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to her. Not yet, at least.

"What's been bothering you?" she asked in a low, calming voice.

Circling back to his office, Mac took a seat where his clients usually sat. Stella took his own chair behind the desk.

"I'm tired but I can't sleep. I can't even look outside my window now because I'm scared of seeing September all over again. I can't go home yet because there's too much left of Claire. I keep calling her cell phone and don't realize until the operator tells me that she's not there anymore."

Stella felt guilty for having been horrible to him the whole day. Sitting in front of her, he suddenly looked tired, almost gone. It started to make sense of how angry he seemed with her. She tried to put herself in his place, still raw over losing Claire, having to tie himself to work just to remain _there_.

She felt a few tears prickle at her eyes, but didn't wipe them. "Mac," she asked slowly, "are you feeling depressed?"

Mac looked up at her sharply. Stella expected him to tell her to back away, so she blurted out, "Mac, I'm sorry, but it's something friends have to do. I don't like to see you like this, and I just want to help you as much as possible -"

Mac held up his hand. "It's alright, Stella. I get what you mean." He paused, though, looking at the corner of his desk. "I went to the psychologist yesterday morning," he admitted, putting one hand against his face. "She was telling me to stop obsessing over Claire's death. Said to try antidepressants if I have to. If I can't get away from all of this that I may have to… take a break from here for a while."

Stella clenched her teeth together, trying to compose herself. "Clinical depression, then?" was all she could say.

Mac rubbed his forehead. "More or less. I just think…" He broke off, looking for words. "I just think that it's… rational to feel like this."

"It is," Stella told him, surprised to find her voice breaking more than Mac's. "Mac, it's perfectly rational to feel that way. And you're amazing at your job. You could go insane and still be here."

She knew she had picked the wrong words when Mac said, "Sometimes I really think I am going insane. I honestly can't do things like I used to."

Stella kicked out at the desk, making the chair spin a little bit. "Mac, if you need anything at all -"

Mac gave her the smallest shadow of a grin she had ever seen. "And what tells you I need anything?"

"We're never out of evidence." Stella tried to smile for him, but couldn't. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and wiped it away quickly.

The two stood up, ready to leave. Stella noticed the clock. "What's the point to going home?" she laughed. It faded too quickly though. "You going to be able to sleep?" she asked him.

"Yeah, I think so." Mac rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. "If I can't, then I think I'll start… clearing out some things."

"Are you going to need help?" Stella asked cautiously.

Mac stared at the desk, obviously thinking. "No," he answered slowly before looking up. "I think this is something I need to do myself."

Stella nodded and reached him where he was opening the door for her. Instead of walking through the door, however, she took him slowly and gave him a long hug. The door fell partially-closed against her hands on his back.

"Thanks, Stella," he whispered.

They left the building for their cars. Mac got into his, turning it on, waving to Stella as he drove off. She was left watching his license plate, wondering how long it would take for him to be alright.


End file.
